Those are ‘my’ kids, and I watched them grow up

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 07/07/2017 (3324 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

On March 26, 2007, I was asked to photograph a group of Grade 2 Windsor School students exploring Manitoba Museum’s Science Gallery on what was their first school outing. Little did I know at the time these students would become a significant part of my life for the next 10 years.

The kids were part of a Free Press project called Class of 2017, which began in 2005 and followed a group of kindergarten students from their first year in school to their high school graduation. In 2007, they were at the end of Grade 2 and Jon Thordarson, the newspaper’s photo editor at the time, asked me to come on board as the principal photographer for the project and document the students’ school lives until they graduate. Honoured to be given the role, I immediately accepted even as unanswered questions flooded my thoughts: Would the project actually make it through 10 more years? Would the readers stay interested? Would the students drop out? And, where will I be 10 years from now? Although the thoughts were daunting, I didn’t think much more about it at the time; after all, 2017 seemed like a century away.

For the next 10 years, I would drop in and out of their lives, capturing major and minor milestones that would eventually define them. In the beginning, it was things such as facing the fear of reading aloud in front of the class, volunteering with special-needs kids, becoming school patrols and raising funds to have an inclusive play structure built for challenged kids. That chapter — He ain’t heavy — featured a photo I took of Griffin at the end of Grade 7 carrying his little brother Tyler, who has cerebral palsy, to the school’s play structure.

As they got older, the kids dealt with heavier issues — bullying, moving on to high school, getting their first part-time jobs, considering career options.

Some years were harder than others to capture significant, compelling images of their school activities. But I realized throughout the project that sometimes it’s the seemingly insignificant moments in life that have the greatest impact. The day in and out of going to math and science classes and writing exams may not make for a great photo, but it’s an important piece of their story. And that is what this project came to mean to me in the end — taking a closer look at the normalcy of a child’s life and seeing the greatness in it.

As Noah’s mom Carolyn captured that for me last month on their high school graduation day. “I think it just makes them real kids facing real issues that people can relate to… nothing stellar, they’re not facing huge adversities like poverty or gang involvement or things like that, they’re just regular kids doing their thing,” she said.

But even regular kids experience loss and pain and the Class of 2017 wasn’t immune to it. The death of a best friend, the heartache of broken relationships and the pain of working through mental-health issues were challenging. And yet these, too, they faced with courage. But whether you’re a student making your way through your school years or the journalists trying to tell their story, you don’t always have to be accomplishing monumental quests to be doing great things. Sometimes just being honest and working through your struggle to the end is great enough.

On June 26, nearly 300 students from Glenlawn Collegiate, dressed in red caps and gowns, walked across the stage to receive their diplomas. Fifteen of them were from our Class of 2017 project. I couldn’t help but shed some tears. These kids had become part of my identity over the decade — nearly half of my professional career — and I felt a little bit like a mom to them. This moment was significant for not just making it across the stage to receive the diplomas, but for the accumulation of all the little, insignificant moments along the way.

Later that evening after their formal dinner, the students and I gathered to take some final group photos. As they laughed and giggled among themselves, I couldn’t help but think back to the days at nearby Windsor School when they all hung out together. When the photos were done, we hugged, said our goodbyes and the class dispersed back into the hall for formal speeches. Some lingered a little longer to answer questions I had on what it’s been like being part of this project for so many years.

Noah’s answer mirrored my own feelings. “Being featured in the local newspaper is probably going to be one of the crowning, most definitive achievements in my entire life,” he said.

I packed up my bags and tripod and made my way out of the building just before the dance was to start. As I walked to my car I felt the ping of sadness, like something really great had just come to an end.

ruth.bonneville@freepress.mb.ca